


The Bend in the Road

by the_queenmaker



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-06
Updated: 2011-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-20 05:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_queenmaker/pseuds/the_queenmaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shindou Hikaru is invited to Korea for an exchange program following the Hokuto Cup. Expansion on 'If the Pieces Fit'. Ko Yeong-ha/Shindou Hikaru</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"...the Go Institute of Korea would like to formally extend an invitation to Shindou Hikaru to participate in the program." Hikaru waved the letter at Kurata. "What is this?"

Kurata read through the lines and whistled, as if impressed. "They work fast, I'll give ‘em that."

"Work fast? For why?" Hikaru's eyes searched Kurata’s face for any indication of suspicious behavior. "What's going on?"

"Well, these were only rumors whenever I heard them,” Kurata said. “Whenever the tournament was going on, someone has the brilliant idea to put in some kind of exchange program between Japan, China, and Korea. Some people even thought this would lead to some glorious international league of Go.” He snorted at the ridiculousness of the idea. “Well, I didn’t think they’d start anything so quickly"

"Wait--but why Shindou?" Touya asked keenly. "He lost."

"Thank you for reminding me," Hikaru scowled. "I had completely forgotten."

"Completely valid question," Touya returned placidly.

Kurata chuckled. "I didn't even know that they were going forward with this,” he said. “I know even less about their selection process. Better question is, Shindou-kun, what are you going to do?”

Shindou opened his mouth, frowned, and closed it again. He knew what would happen if he said no; life would continue on as ever before. Saying yes, on the other hand...

"If I accepted this," he said, ignoring the way Touya's eyes flashed at him, "what would happen to my ranking in Japan?"

"Given the circumstances, probably nothing," Kurata said, scratching his chin. "It'd probably be treated like a medical leave. I can't imagine they would improve your ranking, but I'm certain they wouldn't deduct from it."

Hikaru looked down and stared at the letter some more. _A chance to immerse yourself in the styles of international professionals_ , the letter said.

Touya’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “You’re not actually thinking about accepting this,” he said incredulously. “Shindou—“

"What do you think I should do, Kurata-san?" he asked quietly.

Kurata looked between the two of them; Touya who looked as if he was barely holding back his objections, and Shindou who desired his honesty. "Korea has a lot of strong players, Shindou-kun," he finally said. "I don't know when you'll get an opportunity like this again."

And so Hikaru made up his mind. He resealed the letter and handed it off to the Korean delegate as they left the hotel. Three weeks after returning home from the Hokuto Cup, Shindou was back on a plane to Korea for a three-month program that would cause his path to go irrevocably off-course.

//

A droopy-cheeked old man old man is waiting for him outside the airport gate holding a sign with "Shindou Hikaru" scrawled across it. When he speaks, it becomes clear that the man was not chosen for his conversational skills as much as he was for his astoundingly good Japanese.

"My name is Baek Daesoon," the old man said, bowing slightly, with no detectable accent. "Please follow me."

Hikaru bowed in response, declined assistance with his luggage, and followed him out to the cab.

"We would like to express our delight in you agreeing to take part in the program," Daesoon said when the driver exited the pickup lane. "We will provide for you a room at the Go Institute dormitory, and you will have access to the cafeteria along with a food allowance. We will have three matches for you scheduled every week. Otherwise, you are free to partake in practice rooms or enjoy your stay in Seoul.."

Hikaru nodded agreeably.

"I teach the beginner class," Daesoon added as an afterthought. "I will be around should you require a translator."

"That sounds wonderful," Hikaru said politely. "Thank you."

//

After a brief tour of the Korean Go institution, whose gobans sat on tables and chairs, and vending machines featured an unfamiliar array of unfamiliar drinks, Daesoon led him through the dormitories to his designated room.

"This is where I will leave you," Daesoon said with another little bow. "If you should need to be in contact with me, please do not be shy."

The room was larger than Hikaru had expected, with two's of everything: two desks fitted under two loft beds, two closets, two mini-refrigerators, two gobans with stones splayed all across them, and two familiar faces who lit up at the sight of them.

"Shindou!" Suyon bounded up to him, looking thoroughly pleased. "You're the exchange from Japan?"

"Yeah, that’s right." Hikaru narrowed his eyes at Yeong-ha, who was sitting back in his chair with a lazy smile on his face. "What's he doing here?"

"He lives here," Suyon said, as if suddenly aware of the tension in the room.

"I see..." Hikaru shrugged. "It's not a big deal, I just thought I would only have one roommate."

"Oh...actually,," Suyon scratched his head. "I was also selected in the exchange program--I'll be leaving for China in a two days."

"Ah, I see." Hikaru said. And then. "Wait, so my roommate is _him_?"

Yeong-ha grinned at him and said something in a mocking tone.

Disregarding all manners, Hikaru glared at him.

"He said 'it's a pleasure to be your guide'," Suyon cut in hastily, and said something to Yeong-ha in an imploring tone that could only be a plea to behave.

Yeong-ha grinned at the two of them before swiveling back to his laptop screen where the countdown to the next game of StarCraft was beginning.

Suyon sighed. "Are you hungry, Shindou? I'll take you out to eat."

//

They end up at a small family-owned restaurant, barely visible on the corner of a large, bustling street, and by the time the food arrived, the lines of conversation had shifted to far more pleasant topics than Hikaru’s unfortunate draw of a roommate.

"The Chinese asked me about two days after the Cup," Suyon said. "I couldn't say no."

"Well, my letter was waiting in my room when I got back from the closing ceremony," Hikaru laughed. "I don’t even know what they were planning.”

"Yeah, I'm surprised they asked you," Suyon said, smiling briefly at the waitress who left with them each with a plate of bulgogi. "I heard the invitations were suppose to go out to the lowest-ranked player, not the first-chair."

Hikaru blinked. "I haven't heard that."

"So it wouldn't interfere with their ranking, assuming that the higher the chair, the higher the ranking," Suyon said. Then his mouth formed into a mischievous smirk. "Guess we all know where you stand, huh?"

"You," Hikaru sniped, reaching across and ruffling the front of Suyon's hair, "are decades too young to be trying to one-up me, kid."

Suyon batted his hand away and grinned. "C'mon, I'll take you to my favorite salon," he said. "The regulars are gonna get a kick out of getting a change to cream a Japanese professional."

//

When they finally returned to the dormitory, it was dark outside, and judging from the cloudy mirrors in the adjacent bathroom, someone had just taken a shower. And judging from Yeong-ha's state of undress, with his hair in a messy tail and missing shirt, Hikaru thought his hypothesis to be correct.

Upon their entrance, Yeong-ha jumped to his feet and started speaking in Korean while motioning meaningfully toward the goban.

"He wants to play a game," Suyon supplied helpfully. Yeong-ha said something else. "Speed Go," he added.

Hikaru hesitated for a second, but playing a game with infinite possibilities for so many years had robbed him of his self-doubt. They sat down and played a game of speed Go, which turned into three. Three games, three defeats.

Hikaru sat back and exhaled loudly. In the final game, he has lost by his smallest margin: 2.5 moku.

"You're pretty good at speed Go," he said. Yeong-ha replied and motioned to the center region. "I know it was a risk, but I had to make up for what happened here." Yeong-ha made eye contact and said something else. Hikaru scowled at him. "Shut up."

Suyon watched the exchange with fascination. He laughed to himself--maybe mathematics was not the only universal language.

//

Suyon left for China with strict instructions to _get along or else so help me, I will end you both_ , and Hikaru won his first game.

He realizes another mild culture shock his first day, walking into the game room. While he was well below the average age of the Japanese Go institution, there were still at least a fair number of professionals around his age he could converse easily with. The Korean Go institute, on the other hand, was almost exclusively adult, and walking through the place with Yeong-ha, they are given a wide berth.

His opponent was a middle-aged man whose style was like a refined Honda, but with unexpectedly bold moves that forced Hikaru to continually improvise; in three months, Hikaru would discover that his first opponent was one of the more conservative players.

Discussing the game afterward was also not as comprehensive given the language barrier. Given the population, with most of the younger players still struggling with their Yeon'gusaeng rankings, Hikaru got a sinking feeling that there weren't many peers to be had here in Korea.

That first night after Suyon left for China, Hikaru returned to his room so tired and jetlagged that he crawled straight into bed and fell asleep. He woke up hours in the darkness with someone snoring softly in his ear.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" Hikaru bellowed, putting his palm on Yeong-ha's face and shoving it away as hard as he could.

Yeong-ha stirred and blinked up at him groggily, before his head hit the pillow again.

“Hey, hey, GET OUT OF MY BED,” Hikaru insisted loudly, but Yeong-ha only—oh god-- _snuggled_ closer. Hikaru poked him. Yeong-ha didn’t budge.

Hikaru mumbled under his breath as he began to crawl out of his own very warm, very soft bed for Yeong-ha’s bunk—when suddenly Yeong-ha’s arms wrap around him and pull him back down. Into a hug.

Oh _hell_ no.

Hikaru tried twisting out of Yeong-ha’s arms, but like a Chinese finger trap, the more he moved, the tighter Yeong-ha held on.

Well, he decided after what felt like hours of fruitless struggle, Hikaru sighed, and decided that he could wait it out. And he would absolutely _not_ fall asleep in a bed with _this person_.

//

When he opened his eyes again, it was sunlight. What’s worse, he felt so refreshed he wanted to cry.

//

The hastily sketched picture was a comic strip involving two stick figures, one who was clearly himself and one who was clearly Hikaru.

The first square had them laying down on two separate rectangles (beds, obviously). The second square had stick-figure!Yeong-ha shuffling across the dividing space with his stick arms outstretched. The third square had the two stick figures lying in the rectangular beds side by side.

“You want to _sleep with me_?!” Hikaru (absolutely did not) squeaked.

Yeong-ha positively beamed at him. Hikaru made a mad dash for the door, but then he learned Yeong-ha was also…faster than he was.

He lifted his hands in the universal ‘hold on, wait’ motion, pointed to his drawing again, and drew sleep lines emanating from the stick figure in the second square.

“You…sleepwalk?”

Cautiously, Yeong-ha nodded.

Hikaru laughed uneasily. “You…are…very, very strange,” he said. Yeong-ha smiled and nodded. “You have no idea what I’m talking about either, do you?”

Yeong-ha shrugged, strolled back into the room, sat down at his goban, and tapped the side of it as if demanding a game.

Hikaru was pretty sure he hated that guy.

[ tbc ]


	2. Chapter 2

The life of a Korean Go professional was startlingly similar to the life of a Japanese Go player. There were scheduled matches, a room for discussing (which Hikaru was surprised to discover he doesn't need much Korean to be able to participate in), and a variety of people--some who were more interested in him than his Go, some who were more interested in his Go than him, and some who flat out ignored his existence.

...so, the same as it was in Japan.

He became accustomed to their playing styles. Korean players were far more daring than Japanese players. If the Japanese players were the classically trained pianists, Korean players were the prodigies who started out by tapping out keys that sounded good together. Sometimes, Hikaru could hold off the attack, sometimes, he lost to them.

Of course, the biggest difference was that he began playing Go with Ko Yeongha, multiple games—regular Go, speed Go, blind Go— every night after checking his email and calling his mother to assure her he was alive.

"Don't laugh," he would scowl at Yeongha as he flipped the phone close. "She worries." Yeongha's response would an amused little smile on his face accompanied by a shrug.

Ko Yeongha was a strong player, in a way that Hikaru knew he would still find challenging even after a lifetime of matches. His style epitomized the Korean way of playing, an aggressive offensive with few weaknesses that could overwhelmed his opponent before they ever realized they were in trouble.

Hikaru’s own come-from-behind victories seemed paltry when, one night, they switched colors right before the yose and Yeongha managed to close the 10.5 moku deficit to win.

“Are you sure you wanna be doing this?” he asked one night futilely, knowing he wouldn’t get a proper response. “Helping the enemy?”

Yeongha smiled and nodded—but then again, Yeongha always smiled and nodded.

Hikaru would never admit it, but soon the nightly matches became his favorite part of the day. (Other than that whole Yeongha-sleepwalking-into-his-bed-every-night thing, but he got over that.)

//

His schedule of matches, like that of a Korean professional, advanced to the next level based on his results. Hikaru rose very fast through the ranks, but sooner or later, he hit the point where he started losing to his scheduled opponents.

"Selections in Korea are very strict, you must win a decisive victory against an opponent in the upper class before you can advance," Daesoon explained to him. "That is why there is a big difference between a yeon'gusaeng and a professional."

One night, during their nightly battles, Yeongha stopped at the eighth hand in and started pointing at the small clusters of stones on the top, and started speaking in unmistakably annoyed tone of voice before clearing off the board.

"Hey—“ Hikaru protested, “what are you doing, we just got started."

Yeongha said something so obnoxiously it could only translate to something like _"You would've lost anyway"_.

Seething, Hikaru reluctantly began a a second game, and once again, on the eighth hand, Yeongha pointed to the existing clusters and cleared the board again.

"What's your problem?" Hikaru bit out angrily. "Can't be bothered to finish an entire game?"

Yeongha slammed the lid back into the bowls and started speaking again, this time in calm, level sentences with no detectable attitude. He pointed as he spoke, at Hikaru, then all around, then at the board, jabbing down several times before putting his hand up, grabbing his fingers with the opposite hand, and turning it sideways like a weird demented hip-hop move.

 _Your start-game is terrible, that's why you're losing to everyone here. I am going to improve your start-game and we will not advance until I am satisfied,_ was what Hikaru interpreted.

So they did, playing the first eight hands again and again until finally, Yeongha played the ninth.

By the end of the week, Hikaru was still losing to Yeongha, but he started winning against everyone else again.

//

One Friday afternoon, one of the few younger professionals named Choi Yoorin who spoke a little Japanese invited him out for drinks with a couple of the yeon'gusaeng. Hikaru agreed and that evening, he experiences the nightlife in Seoul for the first time.

"We wanted to meet Yeongha's special friend," Yoorin said with a giggle in stuttering Japanese.

Hikaru laughed. "We're roommates," he responded in equally uneven Korean.

"Yeongha watches your matches," Yoorin translated for the short-hair boy with the upturned nose. "Yeongha doesn't ever watch _anyone_ play baduk," she added for clarification.

"We learn from each other," Hikaru replied diplomatically. The conversation turned naturally in the direction of Go and Hikaru relaxed. They followed dinner with a visit to a crowded karaoke bar, where Hikaru learned the choreography from the more catchy pop songs, and had himself a very nice time in general.

He also went and got himself completely and utterly smashed.

//

He woke up in his bed, limbs heavy like they were tied down to the mattress. (They weren't of course, but he checked, just in case.)

Yeongha was already awake, playing StarCraft with the intensity he put into a game of Go. When Hikaru tried to speak, all his words jumbled and came out sounding like unintelligible noises of discontent.

Yeongha said something condescendingly.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled as he struggled off the bed. "Hard alcohol is not the same as sake, I got it."

Yeongha said something else followed by a laugh.

Hikaru glared at the back of his head and willed for it to burst into flames (or, y’know, for all that hair to just fall off and let’s see how pretty he is when he’s _bald_ ) before heading for the bathroom with dignity (he may or may not have fallen off the top bunk) and turning on the shower.

He tried recalling the events of last night. Yoorin had insisted he learn the ‘Tell Me’ song because if that was the only thing he learned here in Korea, the trip would be worth it. Then the other guy with the blond hair had handed him a shot and he had downed it without thinking. The rest after that was pretty blurry; he remembered laughter and noise followed by silence and fluorescent lights and a voice telling him what an idiot he was and fingers brushing his hair out of his face.

Hikaru turned pale.

"YOU!!!" Hikaru raced out of the bathroom and later he would be pleased to note that him and all his towel-clad form finally brought wiped that smug expression off Yeongha's face. "YOU...ASSHOLE!!"

Yeongha's initial surprise wore off to a mild curiosity.

"Don't give me that face," Hikaru snapped. "You can speak Japanese. You've been able to speak Japanese _this entire time_!!"

Yeongha continued to blink at him.

"I heard you," Hikaru said. "Last night, when Yoorin and Taemin brought me back, I heard you tell me to swallow something to make the dizziness go away and it was you, I know it was you!"

Yeongha managed a confused face for a second longer before it splits into a grin. "You are correct, Shindo-kun," he said. In. Perfect. Japanese.

Hikaru swore. "You've been...making me _mime_ everything this _entire_ time when you...you..."

"It was... _very_ entertaining." Yeongha confirmed with a satisfied nod.

"Entertaining?!" he howled. "For what reason?!"

Yeongha scratched his chin. "I think I decided to learn when I played Touya-sensei for the first time and realized maybe Japan had strong players after all," he said seriously. "My English is actually stronger than my Japanese, but I have to say I’m doing very well given the circumstance.”

"That's not what I meant," Hikaru said through gritted teeth, clapping a hand to his forehead in frustration before wheeling around and stomping back to the bathroom.

"Hey Shindou, there's something I've been want to ask you," Yeongha called out after him. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

A door slammed in response.

//

Hikaru lost his next game.

//

Suyon laughed and laughed until Hikaru thought he was going to hurt himself.

"Shindou," Suyon said, gasping for air, "I’ve shared a room with Yeongha for almost a year now. He does not sleepwalk."

//

Yeongha was recreating a game from memory when Hikaru returned and his eyes widened in genuine surprise.

"Suyon called," Yeongha said. "I didn't think you'd come back."

Hikaru glowered at him.

Yeongha pointed to the chair opposite from his side.

Wordless, Hikaru sat down and they started playing. The game began as normal, but it became apparent to both of them very fast that this would not be a game either of them would be proud of--too wild, too distracted. Hikaru's eyes kept traveling from the board to Yeongha's fingers tapping softly against the bowl, Yeongha's hair waving from the overhead fan, Yeongha's eyes staring unblinkingly at him every time he looked up.

"Stop looking at me," he said, annoyed. "Pay attention to the game."

"I've always looked at you," Yeongha said quietly. "You just never noticed."

Hikaru’s fingers pause against the stone he just placed, and he swallowed. He had always been so concentrated on Go that his gaze rarely wandered from the board…but if he had to be honest with himself, he didn’t think Yeongha was lying.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Yeongha asked for the second time, sitting back in his chair, game completely forgotten.

Hikaru frowned. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

Yeongha gazed at him with an uncomfortable solemnity. "I can only think of one reason why someone would ask that question," he said.

It was not the answer he was expecting, and the seriousness of Yeongha’s tone caught him completely off guard. Suddenly, Hikaru was very aware of how far away the door was, how very intense Yeongha’s presence was, and how very unsure of himself he was at that very moment.

"I like you," Yeongha said, when Hikaru didn't respond, in Japanese that sounded more carefully rehearsed than anything else he'd said that night. "I would like to know if I had a chance with you."

Hikaru swallowed, and all the confused thoughts running through his head crashed straight into each other so no words came out and he was left gaping like an idiot.

Wordlessly, Yeongha pushed the goban on its wheeled little stool away so there was nothing between them. He shifted forward on his chair, rolling closer and closer, centimeter by centimeter, and Hikaru wasn’t sure what was going to happen but the worst case scenarios ran through his mind and it left him frozen with a stupid, slack-jawed expression on his face.

Right when Yeongha was right in front of him, right when he thought something was going to happen, right when he was bracing himself…Yeongha pulled away.

"Goodnight," he said instead, and walked swiftly out of the room, door clicking shut behind him.

//

When Hikaru woke up in the morning, the room was empty and he was alone in his bunk.

[ tbc ]


	3. Chapter 3

Hikaru's winning streak ended at the hands of a middle-aged woman who played like Nase would in five years. He had seen her Go before and he shouldn't have lost.

"I'm very happy that I won," she said, incorporating just enough Japanese into her speech for Hikaru to understand. "Young people these days are rising so quickly, it's hard work for us older folks to keep up."

"Thank you for the game," he replied in his own unique mix of rudimentary Korean. "I learned a lot."

She smiled kindly at him. "Is something bothering you, dear?"

Hikaru thought of the way Yeongha had looked away from him last night, like it took every ounce of self control to walk away. He smiled back. "Of course not."

//

Choi Yoorin slid into the cafeteria booth across from him.

"Where's Yeongha?" she asked by way of greeting. "We were just getting used to have him around."

"I don't know." Hikaru cocked his head. "He doesn't usually eat here?"

"Us common folk don't get to see him a lot," she said, shaking her head.

"Why not?" Hikaru's brow furrowed. "Just because he's a better player...?"

Yoorin stared at him. "Oh, you don't know, do you?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Yeongha's mom heads a major sponsor of the Baduk Institution. He's out 'representing' most of the time."

Now Hikaru was not a big fan of gossip, but right around then he realized that he didn't know very much about the person he had played his heart out against night after night. There was a certain logic in determining who a person was through their Go, but then again, there was Sai, whose gentle nature belied his fearsome Go. So the next words out of his mouth were: "What can you tell me about Yeongha?"

He was a wonder, a prodigy who gained prestige very quickly in a very competitive field. His mother's involvement had opened doors his natural talent enabled him to walk through, but placed a barrier where his inherent aloof nature would not venture to change. He was not strong enough to win titles yet, but there was a chasm of difference in ability between him and others of his age group. He was admired as much he was resented, but most of all, he was respected.

"But--" Hikaru interrupted. "Does he have any friends?"

"He got along with Suyon, if only because Suyon was the only person who didn't take crap from him. And..." she peered at him. "I guess...you're his friend?"

His initial response was a vehement 'no thank you, definitely not', but then he thought about it.

Given his celebrity, Yeongha probably didn't have to wait for him to go to the game room every morning, or wait for him to finish his match so they could go eat, or take care of him when he was drunk, and he most certainly did not have to make an effort to actively try and _improve_ Hikaru's Go.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I guess I am."

//

Hikaru stayed up (far) later than usual that night, and greeted a dumbfounded Yeongha with a smile. He motioned to the seat on the opposite side of the goban. "Come play a game with me?" he asked hopefully.

Yeongha hesitated for only a second before complying.

They play the first game without saying a word, with only the _pachi_ of the stones interrupting the silence. Twelve stones into the second game, Hikaru finally spoke.

"I've never initiated a game," he said. Yeongha's pause before he placed the next stone was the only indication that he had heard Hikaru. "I also realized that you've done a lot of things for me that I've kind of taken for granted, so thank you for that."

They entered yose before Yeongha replied.

"I heard about you long before I met you," Yeongha said. "Suyon would often speak of a boy he played in Japan who gave him back his motivation to win. And made him cry."

Hikaru grinned with pride.

"Touya-seonsaeng mentioned you before too." Hikaru's eyes widened in surprise. "He talked about the importance of having a rival: that there would always strong players, but to have someone with similar age and level to measure your strength against, to be able to bring out the best in each other. His son had a rival, he said, and that is why his son would achieve greater heights than he could hope for. I didn't understand at the time because I've only ever won or lost." Yeongha smiled wryly. "I thought Touya-seonsaeng was going senile."

They had started another game by now; Hikaru had won by the Japanese standard of komi and lost by Korean standard.

"I recognized Touya Akira first, and from the way he interacted with you, I identified you as the rival," Yeongha continued. "And then Suyon called out to you, and I realized that the face of Suyon's hero and the face of Touya Akira's rival were the same; and I thought, what a shame that I won't be playing him."

And all the pieces fell into place.

"Before the tournament, there was a rumor going around that I was becoming complacent and unmotivated," Yeongha said. They had stopped playing completely. "My mother has...a fair amount of influence. I thought, what if I took a misunderstanding and...pushed it? The most exhilarating game I have played in a long time and three week later, you are delivered to me."

Hikaru's jaw dropped.

Yeongha leaned forward. "I have never once believed in fate," he said softly. "But you are someone who causes ripples. I intended to keep you close, I never imagined that..."

He stopped talking, but from the flush of his face, Hikaru flashed back to the previous night and felt himself turning red. But it was quite rude to take without giving and despite his occasional immaturity, Hikaru's mother had raised him properly. He summoned his courage, and asked: "H-how did that happen, anyway?"

"...you talk a lot." Yeongha finally said. "Before you knew I spoke Japanese, you had this tendency to talk right after a game. At first, it was mostly insults." He smiled at the memory. "You'd be surprised at what people say when they think no one else can understand them."

Hikaru bit his lip. He recalled an incident when, after a particularly brutal defeat, he had called Yeongha something that would've caused his mother to attack him with soap. Judging from Yeongha's recovered smirk, so did he.

"I wanted to tell you that I spoke Japanese," Yeongha said. "I kept waiting for the right moment, but the more you talked, the more serious you became. One day, you looked me in the eye and said 'even in a million years, you will not come close to touching him'. At that point, I didn't know how to bring it up without completely alienating you and...I didn't want you to stop talking."

Hikaru rocked back in his chair, stunned.

"So then..." he ventured, "where did that whole...other thing come from? That whole..."

"That whole...'I like you' thing?" Yeongha shrugged. "Is it so unusual? You are attractive, I am attractive, we have a common interest, and we spend a lot of time together. It's natural."

"But--" Hikaru sputtered. "How do you know that you _like_ me?"

"Shindou," Yeongha sounded exasperated now. "I don't know if you've realized this, but _I don't like people_. If I can put up with someone, it’s an achievement."

"But there's a big difference between--"

"I like you," Yeongha interrupted, simple and direct. “My feelings are not the ones in question.”

Hikaru’s face reddened further and he looked away, biting his lip. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I’ve never thought about it…I’ve never thought about…that stuff. My life has been about Go since as long as I can remember.”

“You spent the entire last month and a half sleeping in the arms of another boy,” Yeongha said, straight-faced.

Oh yeah. Hikaru felt his face deepen in color.

“I’m not a person who will give up easily,” Yeongha continued on bluntly. “If you give me any indication that your rejection is insincere, I will continue pursuing you until I get an absolute.”

Hikaru trained his gaze on the goban, completely taken aback. This was too much to digest at one time, too much that he didn’t know about himself. What Yeongha was suggesting, what he was implying…he had little contact with homosexuality, and while he maintained a polite apathy regarding the subject, he never thought he would be ‘one of them’ either.

“I…I’m sorry,” Hikaru said truthfully. “I-I don’t know. I can’t say yes.”

To his surprise, Yeongha smiled.

“Not saying yes is not the same as saying ‘no’,” Yeongha said, and it sounded like a battle cry. He stood up, stretched, and his following “Good night, Shindou” sounded like a promise.

[ tbc]


	4. Chapter 4

Hikaru woke up the next morning to the sound of gunfire and rolled over to find Yeongha blasting enthusiastically away at an army of zombies.

“You’re up early,” he commented cheerfully without looking away from his game.

“Uh-huh,” Hikaru blinked blearily. He never got the memo on how to behave around your roommate who just confessed a more-than-mild infatuation with you, but he was perfectly happy to let Yeongha take the lead. A little confused, but a lot relieved, he tumbled off his bed to check the internet for the latest chapters of Jump.

Everything was running along as per usual and then, in the elevator, Yeongha stood unnecessarily close to him—a feat even more uncomfortable when they were the only two people present—and then on their way to lunch, Yeongha put his hand on the small of Hikaru’s back ( _and kept it there_ ).

“What are you doing?” Hikaru asked suspiciously as Yeongha slid into the chair across from him with a tray piled high with food.

“I am seducing you,” Yeongha replied swiftly, causing Hikaru to snort soda out his nose. “Disgusting but impressive.”

“What. I don’t even…” At a loss for words, Hikaru settled for a classic face-palm.

“Do you want me to stop?” Yeongha asked.

“Yes!” Hikaru exclaimed. Then he remembered the general wretchedness of the days they didn’t talk. “Can you just not be so friendly?”

Yeongha raised his eyebrow. “I am not allowed to be friendly because it is revealed that I have feelings for you?” he asked pointedly.

Hikaru opened his mouth to say something like “we’re not friends”, but then his conversation with Yoorin and oh, who was he trying to fool.

“Fine,” he muttered. “We’re friends.”

Yeongha flashed him a smile, and Hikaru felt as though he had just lost a battle he hadn’t known he was fighting.

//

“You are terrible at this,” Yeongha said, as if fascinated by Hikaru’s complete ineptitude. “It’s like you never played before in your life. But you’re from Japan, that’s impossible.”

“Shut up,” Hikaru sniffed, and does not tell him that the last videogame he remembered playing was a 2-dimensional RPG. Two hours later, when Yeongha threw him a dirty look for unintentionally causing his player to commit suicide, he cracked and told Yeongha that he had chosen Charmander as his starter.

“I…I can’t,” Yeongha threw up his hands dramatically. “The Starcraft 2 beta key tester is completely wasted on you. I’m selling it online.”

Hikaru scowled.

//

Yeongha began to play differently in their nightly games. His hands became more structured and predictable, and when Hikaru won his second consecutive game in a night, he was more disgruntled than content.

“Stop that,” Hikaru said, annoyed. “Just because you like me doesn’t mean you have to lose to me.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Yeongha said agreeably before winning soundly at the next game.

//

One day, an impeccably dressed middle-aged woman with striking features sauntered into the cafeteria. She looked around with an unquestionably imperious gaze before she caught sight of them and, to Hikaru’s chagrin, headed straight for the two of them.

The two began a conversation with so little inflection in their voices that it was difficult to judge the mood, but while the woman was addressing Yeongha, her eyes were trained on a very uncomfortable Hikaru. Suddenly, she extended her hand out. “Ko Yeonghee,” she said in a voice that commanded attention. “I understand you are our exchange from Japan.”

“Yes,” Hikaru stammered in Korean. “Pleased to meet you.”

“I am pleased as well,” she said with an unreadable expression that did nothing to erase the sudden rigidity in Hikaru’s spine. “I hope you have found our arrangements to your liking.” Her Japanese was surprisingly good.

“Yes, very much,” Hikaru said, bowing slightly. “I have learned a lot.”

She smiled primly before turning back to Yeongha. After another brief exchange, she departed.

“So,” Hikaru mumbled after a long silence. “That was…”

“My mother,” Yeongha said under his breath.

Hikaru whistled lowly. “She’s intense.” And very well-preserved, he decided against saying. “I can see the resemblance.”

Yeongha’s made a face. “Please don’t ever say that again.”

//

The weeks flashed on by, and inevitably, Hikaru’s trip came to an end.

A few of the younger professionals he had befriended throw a small (and most likely unauthorized) going-away party in one of the classrooms. Daesung entered halfway through the celebration to announce Hikaru’s record: 41 wins and 33 losses.

“For a professional from Japan,” Daesung chuckled, clapping Hikaru’s shoulders so hard his knees buckled, “not bad at all.”

Yeongha was waiting for him in front of the Go board when he returned to the room, arms full of balloons and streamers and cake.

“Game,” he ordered, as if it were any other night. Hikaru obliged.

From the very first hand, he sensed that there was something different about this game. Yeongha was playing in the structured, almost old-fashioned, style that was not his. Even so, there was certain intensity in air that Hikaru could not ignore, even though his main focus was on the game itself. Suddenly, Yeongha played a hand that made Hikaru take pause.

A long pause.

The stone in his fingers fell back into the bowl as he stared at the last stone. The ‘something strange’ that he had been unable to put his finger on suddenly clicked into place. The entire board, the entire game...it was not identical, he had played too many games to not pick up sooner if that was the case. In fact, now that he was looking closer, there were obvious discrepancies.

But there was also a definite influence, and behind many of Yeongha’s hands, Hikaru could see a vision of a man in white, holding a fan to his mouth but not quite covering up the mischievous smile.

 _Sai…_

Hikaru looked up, agape. “What…”

Yeongha shifted in his seat, looking the most uncomfortable Hikaru had ever seen him.

“You play to bridge the past and the future,” he finally said. “And Shuusaku is a very important figure to you. That was all the information I had on you, directly from you. Everything else I cannot explain: the way you play Baduk, how you learned so quickly, how you are known for not having a mentor. The only explanation that would make sense that I could think of was that you _had_ a mentor. Given your reaction when you thought I had insulted Shuusaku, barring that you were taught by the ghost of Shuusaku—“ Hikaru flinched “—I reasoned that your mentor was a devout admirer of Shuusaku. Given…everything else, he or she must have…is no longer around.”

Hikaru’s hands were trembling. No, his entire body was shaking.

Yeongha shrugged and failed to appear nonchalant. “I…I read through some of his old games and I learned.”

Hikaru brought his hand up to his eyes and realized that that he was crying. He remembered the arduous journey he had taken to search for Sai, to think that he had lost him forever, only to discover Sai in his Go. He had dedicated himself to carrying on Sai’s name, Sai’s Go, Sai’s legacy—he never could imagine finding traces of it in someone else entirely.

“Should I stop?” Yeongha asked quietly.

“Please,” Hikaru croaked. He cleared his throat and rubbed the tears away. “Don’t anymore. I mean, I would much rather play you. Your Go,” he clarified, and surprised himself with how much he meant it.

They clear board and begin a new game, followed by another, and another. That night, they never end up going to bed. Instead, Hikaru and Yeongha play Go until sunrise and Daesung came around knocking and telling him to dress warm because a summer rainstorm was on its way.

“Well, Yeongha-ssi” Hikaru said groggily as he stretched. “I’ve been here for three months, and in three months time…I have not won a single game.”

“As expected,” Yeongha said bluntly. “I am the best.”

“You are full of yourself, that’s what you are,” Hikaru mumbled back. He trudged toward the door where is suitcase was laying, already packed the day before in a rare moment of foresight.

“Do not despair,” Yeongha said, following him. “You are in a small group of people I actively enjoy playing against.”

“I’m honored,” Hikaru said dryly.

“I hope you do not forget your time here when you go home to Japan,” Yeongha said solemnly.

It registered to Hikaru somewhere in his mind that he was on the verge of something, that _something_ was going to change between them the moment he walked out the door. They would probably make an attempt at maintaining contact, but realistically, their correspondence would eventually slow down before stopping completely. The next time they saw each other in person, it would probably be at the next Hokuto Cup, and it would be a polite and strained situation, which would be a downright shame considering how proximal they were to each other at that moment in time.

And maybe it was the sleep deprivation talking, but maybe Hikaru didn’t want that to happen.

For all of his bravado and arrogance, Yeongha had actively tried to improve his Go. Yeongha, who didn’t like people, liked him. And he came closer to the truth about Sai than anyone else. And yeah, he was kind of an asshole, but he fed Hikaru food that was not terrible. Somewhere on his perch between a rock and a very hard place, Hikaru made a decision.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips softly against the corner of Yeongha’s mouth.

Definitely the sleep deprivation, he started to say, but suddenly found himself incapable of speech due to the unexpected presence of a second tongue in his mouth.

“Mmph!” he jerked in surprise, but Yeongha had an extra head and like eight kilograms (okay fine, four) on him. And all in all, it wasn’t a bad first kiss. Yeongha clearly knew what he was doing and there was something quite pleasant and warm about being embraced like that.

And then he remembered who it was he was kissing and put an end to the moment. They broke apart, breathless and red-faced.

“You…” Hikaru slurred accusingly, and was only slightly mortified by the complete lack of actual anger in his voice. “That was—you can’t. I’m a _boy_.”

“And yet.” Yeongha didn’t stop smiling even as he handed Hikaru his luggage. “Have a safe trip, Shindou.”

//

The droplets of water dripping down the side of the car window were strangely mesmerizing. Hikaru was racing them in his head (and not thinking about Yeongha and Yeongha kissing him) when he nodded off.

Daesung shook him awake in what felt like only a few seconds later.

“But it’s like a two-hour drive,” Hikaru protested.

“It’s been two-hours,” Daesung said, amused. Sure enough, they were parked outside the international terminal at Incheon Airport. Hikaru scratched his head. Daesung chuckled and handed him an envelope and an umbrella. “Here is your ticket, good luck to you, Shindou Hikaru.”

He was still woozy when he checked in, but he managed to recover by the time he went through security. Hikaru had arrived at the airport hours ahead of time, so he spent a good two hours wandering all around the shops, spending the last of his won on overpriced food and magazines for the flight.

Whenever he decided to head down to his own gate to catch some sleep before the flight, he rounded the corner only to find--

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

“Vacation,” Yeongha said brightly. “I thought it was about time I got to have one.”

Hikaru sputtered. “WHY—no, seriously, why are you on the same flight as me?”

“The Japanese invitation,” Yeongha said. “It went to me.”

“I thought China was supposed to…”

“Chaoshi declined to participate,” Yeongha said. “

“You have to be kidding me,” Hikaru said weakly. “Still… _the same flight_?”

“The Institute buys the plane tickets,” Yeongha said innocently. “How would I know?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Yeongha shrugged. “I wanted to see what you would do if you thought you were really saying goodbye.”

Hikaru glared. “You are a terrible person.”

“But you already knew that,” Yeongha pointed out before reaching into his bag and pulling out a travel-sized magnetic Go set. “Game.”

“No,” Hikaru replied petulantly.

“The flight’s delayed until the storm passes,” Yeongha said gleefully. “Now nigiri.”

[ tbc ]

 **Bonus: Ko Yeonghee**   


> Ko Yeonghee always knew that her son would grow up to be an exceptionally bright child.
> 
> It wasn’t until she observed his behavior with his toddler playmates that she confirmed that, as with most exceptionally gifted children, her son was also inherently manipulative. Though not maliciously so, Yeonghee knew from first-hand experience how easily it would be for her, as his mother, to lose her objectivity around him, so she did the best thing she could do and kept her distance.
> 
> When her father impressed upon her Yeongha’s potential in Baduk, she hired a respected, retired professional to tutor him.
> 
> When the tutor approached her a little over two years later and said Yeongha had nothing left to learn from him, she summoned her son to her office.
> 
> “I will support you in whatever path you choose,” she said.
> 
> When Yeongha turned fourteen, he obtained his certification. Yeonghee congratulated him by telling him she did not want any grandchildren before unceremoniously booting him from the house.
> 
> “I am you mother,” she said shortly. “It is not my job to coddle you.”
> 
> “Actually,” her son replied sardonically, “some would argue that that’s your only job.”
> 
> “Those children grow up ungrateful, soft, and useless,” she said acidly.
> 
> I’m proud of you, she didn’t say.
> 
> Thanks for not making me go into the family business, her son didn’t say.
> 
> A few weeks later, her company decided to sponsor the Baduk Association. Yeongha will be known, maybe even resented, but it will push him harder to achieve great things, to prove himself. As a mother, it was the best she could do for him.
> 
> Sure enough, Yeongha rose to the top. He was not ready to take titles yet, but he silenced his critics. Yeonghee watched when his ascension plateaued and wondered how long it would take for him to become bored on his laurels. Not ‘complacent’ as the rumors said, but just uninterested enough to start wanting to create ripples.
> 
> In that regard, they were far too much alike.
> 
> //
> 
> Her answer came in the form of a small online video of her son was making a scene at an international youth tournament.
> 
> Hon Suyon hastily assured her than it was a misunderstanding, an answer she accepted easily. Suyon would tell Yeongha she called. Your move, she thought.
> 
> Korea played Japan and Yeonghee gets her son’s response in the form of interview transcripts; he states only one name following his victory: Shindou Hikaru. She penned a letter to the Korean representative and two weeks later, Shindou Hikaru arrived in Korea.
> 
> When two weeks pass by with no word of discord, she assumed the two were getting along well.
> 
> “Getting along?” An Taeson laughed. “I have never seen Yeongha this friendly with anyone before.”
> 
> A month before Shindou Hikaru is set to leave, Yeongha approached her for the first time.
> 
> “I want a vacation,” he said.
> 
> “Go tell the institute,” she replied. “I’m sure you can handle it on your own.”
> 
> “The Japanese invitation,” he clarified. “I want it.”
> 
> “Is this because of Shindou Hikaru?”
> 
> “Yes.”
> 
> “There will be talk,” she said.
> 
> “Let them talk,” Yeongha replied. “I am the better Baduk player and I am better looking.”
> 
> She suppressed the urge to smile. “I will decide after I see him for myself,” she said, and was pleased to see Yeongha’s shoulders tighten with anticipation.
> 
> What she didn't expect was for the one who had captured her son to be a wide-eyed boy with unruly blond bangs and an open-book face. But yet she saw the heaviness of the burdens he carried in his stance and how he guarded the ghosts of his secrets.
> 
> She wrote a carefully worded letter to the Japanese Institute and waited. Her son would have to learn which doors were safe to walk through, but she would unlock as many of them as she could. After all, she was his mother.


	5. Chapter 5

"Of course you're sitting next to me," Hikaru sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air. "Why am I not surprised?"

Yeongha shrugged with a smile that somehow managed to be simultaneously innocent and wolfish. "Must be the universe trying to tell you something." he said blissfully.

Hikaru snorted and pulled his headphones over his ears. “Ignoring the universe,” he said. “Try not to be too loud.”

To his unexpected surprise, Yeongha did not bother him much after that. The remainder of the boarding went by in relative peace, and Hikaru was halfway on the road to dreamland when Yeongha placed (with a deliberate nonchalance) the magnetic go board on his pulldown table and began recreating a game Hikaru recognized one of their own--except it _wasn't_.

"I _never_ played that hand," Hikaru said, horrified, when Yeongha placed yet another blatant mistake.

"You didn't?" Yeongha smirked. "Why don't you correct me then?"

Hikaru did just that and somehow, his corrections turned into an entirely new game, then two, and then another, and then somewhere between six and seven, they had arrived in Japan.

//

"I was going to sleep on that flight," Hikaru rasped accusingly, the force of his glare greatly reduced by the fact that he was very, very tired.

"You were going to ignore me too," Yeongha pointed out as he gallantly hauled Hikaru's luggage off the conveyor belt. "But do not feel too badly. I am very difficult to ignore."

"Just...be quiet." Hikaru snatched his bag (sluggishly regain possession, more like). "And stand over there."

Yeongha, as per usual, disregarded both of his entirely reasonable requests.

"I will turn myself over to your Go institute tomorrow," Yeongha said as they headed out of the airport. "Will you accompany me?"

"Huh?" Hikaru asked, already counting down until the moment where his head was reunited with his beloved mattress. "Yeah, sure."

Yeongha beamed, and without a warning, grabbed the collar of Hikaru's shirt and yanked him closer for a swift, casual peck on the lips. It had the effect of an ice cube down the back of his shirt.

"What the--what are you doing?!" Hikaru sputtered. "We are in _public_."

"So...you would be completely okay with us doing this in private?"

"That is _not_ what I--"

"Shindou." Yeongha patted the top of Hikaru's head, effectively interrupting him. "Go home, and I will see you tomorrow."

Hikaru blinked at him, and all at once his exhaustion caught up with him.

"Whatever," he sighed as he hailed a cab. "Stop kissing me."

"No."

//

"Hikaru?" There came a tentative knocking he had heard so many times in his dreams before. "Hikaru, are you awake?"

He blinked and found himself lying face down in his own bed, with his luggage unpacked and neatly put away.

"If you're awake, I made you some ramen."

His stomach rumbled and in a flash, he was at the door, enveloping his mother in a rare hug.

"Oh my," she said, clearly caught off guard. "Are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled into her shoulder. "I missed you."

She patted him on his back. "Food's in the kitchen," she said, clearing her throat. "You must be hungry."

As he headed downstairs, Hikaru thought of Yeonghas mother and her razor-sharp nails, and thought that she couldn't have cooked many times in her life.

"Oh, and the Go institute left you a message," she called out after him. "They said the Korean professional was going to arrive in the late afternoon, and asked if you would be present."

//

The next day, he was out the door by early morning--if he timed himself right, he could report in and still catch the others in the lunch break.

As luck would have it, the first person he saw as he entered was--

"Shindou-kun, how nice it is to see you!" cackled Kuwabara. "Back from your foreign tour already?"

"Ah, yes Kuwabara-sensei."

"What a pity you were out during the Honinbo preliminaries," Kuwabara said, rubbing his chin before chuckling loudly. "Oh well, one less opponent means I might fend off you rascals another year."

Hikaru laughed uncomfortably, bowing slightly as Kuwabara walked away. Two insei ran toward the elevator, both of whom paused to stare at him in open amazement as they passed by. Hikaru scratched his head--he hadn't been gone for that long.

"Don't be too insulted," a voice said from behind him. "Not every day they get to see the infamous ghost of Shindou Hikaru."

"Isumi-san!" Hikaru grinned as they pounded each other on the back. "What do you mean ghost?

"Waya may have made a joke about how you're always pulling a disappearing act," Isumi laughed. "It just kind of caught on from there."

Of course, Waya. "Is he still ticked off over not making the cup?

"He was," Isumi said. "Until he beat Ochi at their next match-up. Ochi wouldn't leave the toilet until the night janitor kicked him out."

Hikaru laughed. "What else has been going on?” he asked eagerly as the elevator beeped twice for the second floor.

"Touya Akira is now a 4-dan," Isumi said, rubbing his chin. "Honda, Waya, and I have advanced to 2-dan. Ochi just made it past to 3-dan."

"Ochi's higher ranked than me?!" Hikaru wailed.

Isumi laughed. "You'll catch up in no time. I hope you haven't squandered your time in Korea. Want to show me what you've learned?"

Hikaru perked up. "You don't have a match today?"

"My opponent didn't show up," Isumi said gesturing toward the viewing room. "There should be an empty board in there, let's play."

//

The match ended before yose, just as the lunch bell for the regular players rang.

"I'm speechless," Isumi said slowly.

Hikaru flashed a large smile. "Guess my time in Korea wasn't wasted?"

Shindou had improved immensely. His opening hands had improved dramatically, and his style was now so overwhelmingly aggressive, it wasn't even like he was playing the same Shindou Hikaru.

Isumi sighed. The distance between the two that he thought he had managed to lessen, had widened once again beyond his wildest imagination.

"I haven't played such an exciting game," Isumi said honestly. "I'm glad you're back. It's far too quiet here without you and Touya bickering at each other."

"Isumi-san..." Hikaru said, truly touched. And then--"HEY."

//

Waya joined them for lunch at the burger house.

"...and the pro exam is coming up soon," Waya continued as he slurped the rest of his soda. "Both Nase and Fuku are going to try again. You want the rest of your fries?"

In response, Hikaru poured the rest of the fries in his mouth. "Don't look at me like that," he said. "I've been living off kimchi-jigae and kalbi for the last three months."

"What, no NacDonalds in Korea?"

"Not even one."

"How tragic," Waya said with a straight face. "Anyway, you owe me a game. Maybe after my match?"

"Sure," Hikaru said, ignoring the amused expression on Isumi's face. "After I check in with the Kosemaru-san, I'll be free."

"Awesome," Waya cracked his knuckles. "Be prepared Shindou, I'm in excellent form today."

//

"How could I lose?!" Waya howled, flailing his arms comically. "Why do you keep getting better, Shindou?"

Hikaru grinned sheepishly. Waya had gotten further than Isumi, and had definitely brought his game up another level. It just wasn't enough.

"Shindou-kun." The speaker was a young insei Hikaru didn't recognize. "Kosemaru-san would like to see you, the Korean invitee should be arriving soon."

"Korean invitee?" Waya's ears perked up. "I didn't think the rumors were actually true. Who is it?"

"Yeongha," Hikaru said, dumping his stones back in the bin. "I should head out, see you guys later."

Waya and Isumi stared at each other. "Yeongha? Isn't that..."

//

"We received very positive reports from the Korean institute," Kosemaru said. “They were quite impressed with you.”

“Ah…thank you, sir.” Hikaru said, fidgeting only slightly in his leather seat. From beside him, Yeongha was splayed out on his seat like it was a throne and he was its king.

“We also understand that our guest assisted you greatly in your short time there. We hope that you will help make his stay as pleasant and comfortable as he did yours.”

Oh. _Oh_ , that’s where they were going with this.

“I will do my best,” Hikaru said, as the polite script demanded of him.

Yeongha, to his eternal credit, managed to keep his face neutral—at least until they had left the director’s office.

//

“Where to now, Shindou Hikaru-kun?” Yeongha asked throwing his arm around the other boy’s shoulder. Smirking, “I am, after all, your honored guest.”

“That was just for show,” Hikaru grumbled, brushing the offending hand off his shoulder. “You can take care of yourself, can’t you?”

“Absolutely not,” Yeongha deadpanned. “You must keep care of me as a parent eagle would watch over their—“ Hikaru shoved him, hard. “Or you could just hang around and be a pal.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Hikaru snorted

“Can I kiss you?” Yeongha asked hopefully in Korean.

“NO.”

[ tbc ]


	6. Chapter 6

“…and that’s the room of profound darkness over there,” Hikaru said. “That’s where we take our title matches.”

Yeongha let out a low whistle. “Can I go in?” he asked.

“Absolutely not.”

Yeongha pouted. “Just because I do not respect Japanese players as Go professionals, doesn’t mean I do not appreciate their fighting spirit.”

“I meant we couldn’t because there’s a match going on right now.” Hikaru narrowed his eyes. “And what did you mean by that?”

“I’m sorry, my Japanese is not too good,” Yeongha smirked.

Hikaru snorted in disbelief. They were still arguing the finer points of the title world when suddenly they heard a voice calling out his name.

“Nase!” Shindou waved at the pretty girl. “Long time no see. Are the insei coming in already?”

“The afternoon class, anyway,” Nase replied, smiling sweetly. “How was Korea?”

“It was fun, I learned a lot,” Hikaru jerked a hand toward Yeongha. “Until I accidentally brought someone back with me.”

“Oh!” Nase turned pink and her hand jumped up to tuck an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize your friend out of his suit.” She bowed slightly before reaching her hand out. “My name is Nase Asumi. Ko Yeongha, is it?”

Yeongha reached out and shook her hand, smiling politely, but said nothing.

“Well, it’s nice meeting you,” Nase said with a shy smile. “I should head in now. Welcome back Shindou!”

Hikaru waved goodbye until she had gone up the stairs. “What was that?” he asked, annoyed. “You’re going to fake not knowing how to speak Japanese?”

“What are you talking about?” Yeongha asked in Korean. “I do not know how to speak Japanese. And you cannot prove I can, Translator-san.”

Really? _Really?_

//

“Why are you doing this?” Hikaru asked miserably. They had left the Go Institute and he was walking Yeongha back to his hotel, as Yeongha had demanded.

“No reason,” Yeongha replied. “Only that I took you under my protective wing for the entirety of your stay, and maybe I think you should return the favor.”

“I’ll say it again. You are a _terrible_ person.”

“But you already know that,” Yeongha said, smiling widely. “Where are we going?”

“Huh? Oh, I was going over to Touya’s salon to see if he’s there,” Hikaru said nonchalantly. “See if he wants to play a game.”

“Hmm,” Yeongha said with a frown. “I will come with you.”

“Uh.” Hikaru stopped in his tracks. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Yeongha replied. “I would like to play with him the match I was denied during the tournament.”

“Fine.” Hikaru scowled. “You didn’t have to bring that up.”

“My apologies,” Yeongha replied, not sounding very regretful at all.

//

“Shindou-kun! What a pleasant surprise.” Ishikawa leaned forward on the counter. “Haven’t seen you around here in a long time.”

“I was in Korea,” Hikaru said with a straight face. “Learning from the masters.”

From behind him, Yeongha let out a barking cough.

“Akira mentioned something about that,” Ishikawa replied. “I thought the two of you just got into a really bad fight.”

Hikaru laughed sheepishly. “Is Touya in right now?” he asked hopefully.

“Akira went to Nagoya for a teaching game,” Ichikawa said. “He should be back in a few hours.”

“Ah…”

“No problem,” Yeongha said from behind him. “We’ll wait for him.”

“You sure you wanna do that?”

Yeongha tossed his bag against one of the tables and gestured for Hikaru to sit on the opposite end. “We wait.”

//

Hikaru began with a 5-5 and the game devolved from that point. The game was fast, aggressive, and nowhere the level two professionals should have played.

“What an awful game,” came Touya’s voice from beside him once the territory had been counted. “I see your time away was well spent.”

“Touya!” Hikaru flashed him a toothy grin. “Nah, I only play like this when it’s _this guy_. I’ve gotten a lot better.”

“I see,” Touya said with a tightness in his voice that went undetected by those who were not listening for it.

“Shindou, tell him I want to play a match with him,” Yeongha said.

“Eh?” Hikaru blinked. There suddenly appeared a palpable electricity in the air even he was aware of. “Ah, Touya…”

“I would be happy to play a match with you,” Touya replied softly in careful Korean.

“Please,” Yeongha said, motioning for Touya to sit in Hikaru’s quickly-vacated seat like he owned the place. Hikaru made a mental to teach Yeongha some basic etiquette later, but then Touya drew white and the match was on.

//

The game lasted for two hours and had all the air and intensity of an official match. Yeongha, in large contrast to his previous mess of a game with Hikaru, played assertively with few mistakes. Juxtaposed against Touya’s elegant style, there was something almost nauseatingly poetic in their play.

It was a close game,

“Black 96, white 90,” Touya said quietly. “With the Komi, black wins by 0.5 moku.” He bowed his head. “I concede my loss.”

“How gracious,” Yeongha replied. “Just when I was about to congratulate you on a game well-played.”

Touya regarded him quizzically.

“Dum is 6.5 in Korea,” Yeongha clarified. “By my count, white has won by 0.5 moku. To you, I concede _this_ victory. I will not lose to you again after this match.”

Hikaru blinked. A strange proclamation, if he had ever heard one. Touya, on the other hand, seemed to understand his meaning entirely.

“I look forward to future encounters,” Touya shot back.

“You two are acting strange,” Hikaru huffed. “It was a good game, can you relax?”

The two stared at him and decided each their own, that it was a question not worth responding to.

“It’s getting late,” Yeongha said. “I should head back.”

“Okay,” Hikaru chirped. “Uh…you want me to walk you back?”

“I can find my way,” Yeongha replied. “Stay, I’m sure you have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Cool,” Hikaru said before turning to Touya. “You up for another game?”

//

They started a game, and to Hikaru, it felt just like old times. At the end of the match, Touya Akira had prevailed by 2.5 moku.

“Congratulations,” Hikaru yawned, stretching back in his chair. “It was a good game.”

“But with the Korean Komi,” Touya argued, “I would have won by only 1.5 moku.”

Hikaru sighed. “Really, Touya? You’re gonna make a big deal over one point?”

“That’s closer than you’ve ever gotten before,” Touya maintained stubbornly.

“So I got better,” Hikaru said, heated. “What’s the big deal.”

Touya opened his mouth, as if to say something, but stopped. “It’s nothing,” he said instead.

Hikaru rubbed his eyes. He was way too tired to dig any deeper right now. “I’m heading back home,” he said, gathering up his belongings. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Touya.”

Touya remained seated at the board long after Hikaru had gone, staring the scattered white pieces until Ichikawa very hesitatingly told him that she had to lock up soon.

He was far better at reading below the surface than Hikaru was, and he heard the message Ko Yeongha had sent him tonight loud and clear. Walking into his father’s salon, playing what Touya suspected to be a reserved match on his end, and then arranging for Shindou to play immediately after, as if to flaunt how much his rival’s Go had changed in a short period of time.

Shindou’s Go had, indeed, changed. It had shifted toward what his father and Ogata referred to as the more modern style, where riskier moves with greater rewards were attempted—a great shift away from the almost old-fashioned way he used to play. Shindou read deeper, played harder with fewer mistakes, and given some time with the rate he was improving, Shindou would become monstrous.

Ko Yeongha appeared in front of him that night with a single purpose in mind, to issue a challenge. Such behavior was unacceptable. Touya Akira was not the confrontational type, but he would fight to protect what was important to him.

//

His first official return match went to a 5-dan who looked as if someone had plucked him straight out of an office cubicle to play Go. Inoue-san was a skilled player, capable of teaching shidougo in any Go salon, but he was simply not on the same level . When the lunch bell sounded out, he quietly resigned.

“I was completely overwhelmed,” he said, bowing his head in acknowledgement. “To have lost so quickly to a 2-dan…”

“Thank you for this game,” Hikaru said, returning the bow and the older man got up and walked away. The match he just played, if anything, had upset him. It was far beneath the standard he had gotten used to when he was in Korea—too cautious, too predictable. When he played hands that both defended his existing territory and challenged the territory his opponent wanted to claim, the other didn’t stand a chance.

“You won.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah.” Hikaru pulled himself to his feet, glancing at Yeongha’s cleared off goban. “What happened to your game?”

Yeongha snorted. “Didn’t you hear that guy storm out?” He scratched his head. “He’s just lucky I don’t know how to speak Japanese.”

“Still?” Hikaru rolled his eyes. “I’m shocked.”

“I will relearn it on the day you defeat me in a normal game,” Yeongha replied. “Or no, a casual game will suffice as well.”

“ There was a difference?”

Yeongha coughed. “I’ve said too much.”

//

Ochi returned from his lunch break and promptly forced a surrender in his first game as a 3-dan. Feeling quite satisfied with himself, Ochi recorded his victory and exited the game room toward the soda machines. As he turned the corner, he noticed a small crowd gathering in one of the open practice rooms. Expecting a rare match between two of the higher dans, Ochi approached.

“…amazing game…”

“I couldn’t even tell what was happening until…”

He nudged his way through the group only to find that the centers of attention were none other than Shindou and the red-haired Korean pro he recognized as Shindou’s opponent from the Hokuto Cup. Ochi scowled. He was prepared to stop being surprise with Shindou Hikaru and his mysterious mass appeal, and then he caught sight of the board and his expression changed from annoyance to shock.

It was a good game, a great game, even. Amazingly complex, where it was difficult to see where the order of the stones were placed, and ferocious. Ochi had seen the match from the Hokuto Cup, he knew this was Ko Yeongha’s style, but for _Shindou_ to play like this?

Ochi’s scowl darkened. Shindou had advanced far ahead once again.

//

The game ended with a 3.5 moku difference in favor of Yeongha. Hikaru let out a loud sigh and rubbed his face vigorously with his hands.

“How could you make such an amateur mistake this late into the game?” Yeongha asked accusing, pointing at the 13-12 stone.

“It was suppose to be a trap,” Hikaru snapped. “To attack your upper-left territory.”

“Shoddiest trap ever if you can’t bait the target.” Yongha smirked. “Guess I still do not know Japanese.”

//

“That was an excellent game, Shindou-kun.”

“Eh?” Hikaru glanced up from the board. “Shirakawa-sensei?”

The older pro waved cheerfully in greeting. “I almost can’t believe that the game I just witnessed was played by the same boy who dislocated poor Akota-san’s wig in my Go salon so many years ago. And you speak Korean now?”

“Just a little,” Hikaru said, smiling at the memory. One of his less finer moments he was secretly still a little proud of.

“I saw your matches during the Hokuto Cup,” Shirakawa said. “As someone who saw the little boy who couldn’t hold his stones properly, you’ve come a long way.”

Hikaru all but blushed under the glowing praise. They exchanged the customary small-talk before Shirakawa, politely acknowledging Yeongha, went on his way.

“Dislocated…wig?” Yeongha raised his eyebrow.

“It’s a long story.”

[ tbc ]


	7. Chapter 7

A fight nearly breaks out in the game room the next day, about thirty minutes after the first stone was placed.

“Who do you think you are, making all these arrogant moves? Show some respects to your elders.” raged the middle-aged pro whose toupee was fooling no one. When his opponent gave an impudent lack of response, the man raised his voice: “Who let this _sangokujin_ in here anyway?”

Collective gasps were heard from around the room, and immediately, two officials promptly rushed in and escorted the man out. Shinoda entered the room a short time after, and suggested that everyone take an early break.

Hikaru, whose mind had wandered away from his own match entirely, hurried over to where Yeongha was still seated.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

“Of course I’m alright,” Yeongha said with a bravado that did not quite reach his eyes. “I am used to elders being unable to reconcile with the brilliance of their juniors.”

“It was still completely uncalled for,” Hikaru said. “Do you need anything?”

“Play a game with me after you’ve finished,” Yeongha said. “Clear my mind.”

“Yeah,” Hikaru said, wincing as he looked at the board. No wonder the other fellow had been ticked off—it was a complete slaughter. “I can do that.”

//

“Shindou-kun!” Shinoda was waiting for him as he exited the room. “Could I speak to you for a moment?”

“Sure.” Hikaru marked a victory for himself on the scoreboard. “What’s going on?”

“Iwaki-san’s behavior was unacceptable,” Shinoda said seriously. “He will receive a severe reprimand for his actions today. I hope you relate to Ko Yeongha that his attitude is not representative of the Association.”

“I’ll tell him that,” Hikaru said, feeling compelled to add: “I think he already knows.”

“Nevertheless,” Shinoda said, “we offer our sincerest apologies.”

“I will,” Hikaru said, half-eager to go find Yeongha.

“Oh, Shindou-kun,” Shinoda called after him. “I heard you advanced into the Honinbo preliminaries, congratulations to you.”

//

Hikaru found Yeongha in one of the practice rooms playing a match against Waya.

“I give up,” Waya sighed, bowing his head. “Agh, this is embarrassing.”

“Hey, you took it farther than I did,” Isumi said comfortingly.

“And way better than me,” Fuku piped up.

“But I didn’t even feel like I played badly,” Waya complained. “Yo, Shindou. I see now where you got your freakish improvement.”

“Please,” Hikaru snorted as he glanced at the board. “You were fine up until the 8-10 hand.”

“What else was I suppose to do?” Waya asked. “He was attacking my center formation.”

“You should’ve attacked here,” Hikaru said, pointing to the upper right cluster of black. “He would’ve been forced to defend and you would’ve had a fighting chance.”

“Attacking, huh?” Waya stroked his chin. “Huh, maybe you’re right.” He and Hikaru griped at each other for a little more before the other three dismissed themselves for an afternoon snack. “You wanna come with us?” Isumi asked. “Both of you?”

“Nah,” Hikaru said, taking one look at Yeongha’s face. “I’ll catch up another day.”

Waya shrugged. After they had gone, Hikaru turned to Yeongha. “That was an awful game.”

Yeongha glowered. “I won, didn’t I?”

“Only because you tried to fake him out,” Hikaru said stubbornly. “That’s not how you’re suppose to play Go.”

“Oh? Then tell me, how exactly are you _supposed_ to play Go?”

“Go is honest,” Hikaru said, ignoring the sarcasm in Yeongha’s voice. “Go reflects who you are as a player. Your Go is strong and capable, you shouldn’t have to resort to cheap tactics to win.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“No! I—“

“I know,” Yeongha interrupted, motioning for Hikaru to calm down. “I know what you’re saying, I get it.”

“Are you alright?”

“Play a game with me,” Yeongha said instead.

//

“It’s weird though, isn’t it?” Waya whispered, leaning forward in his chair. “Last I heard, Shindou hated that guy and now they’re like…close and all secretive and speaking in Korean. What the hell happened?”

“Why are you whispering?” Isumi asked, reluctantly lowering his voice. “I don’t know, didn’t the reporter clear up the misunderstanding in the last Go Weekly?”

“I know, I know,” Waya said, “but what about the other stuff he said that wasn’t a mistranslation? Like, actually during the tournament.”

Isumi shrugged. “They probably reached some kind of understanding while Shindou was in Korea,” he said. “From what he’s told me, they played a lot of Go and I think they were actually roommates.”

“So that’s why Shindou started playing like that.” Waya made a face. “We need to catch up.”

“Indeed,” Isumi sighed glumly. The new Dan titles would be awarded out soon, and Shindou was almost guaranteed a 3-dan at this point despite spending the better half of the year skipping his oteai games.

“They played a lot of Go, huh?” Waya snickered. “Touya must be jealous.”

//

The Pro Exams began its yearly run, and Hikaru finally had a day off after about a week of solid play. It’s on this day off that he received a call from Yeongha at the ungodly hour of 8 in the morning.

“I was going to sleep in today,” Hikaru growled. And such a nice dream he had been having too, being a ninja and throwing stars at the evil balloon-people who, when hit, exploded into amazingly delicious puff pastries—which he totally did not like because he was a _boy_.

“I was thinking about taking a vacation,” Yeongha said as if Hikaru had just greeted him with a bright and cheerful ‘good morning’.

“What do you call this thing you’re doing in Japan right now?”

“I’ve always wanted to see the view from the Tokyo Tower,” Yeongha continued. “Take me to there.”

“You aren’t afraid that you might slip and fall?” Hikaru asked innocently.

“You will never need to fear an existence without me,” Yeongha said cheerfully, “as if I fall, I will drag you with me. Pick me up in two hours.” And with that, the phone went dead.

Hikaru sighed, running his hand through his sleep-mussed hair. He didn’t already have plans for the day, but that didn’t mean he wanted to spend it running out and around with that arrogant--

 _”Don’t be ridiculous, you are my guest. I must keep you entertained so when you go back to Japan, you can tell everyone how my country is far superior.”_ Yeongha had said that to him once on a weekend when Hikaru had been reluctant to leave his bed.

Hikaru exhaled loudly. He would have to try to be a better host.

//

“The view is not as impressive as I had imagined,” Yeongha said with a frown.

“It’s a giant pink tower, what did you expect?”

“It is featured prominently in many Japanese comics that I have read,” Yeongha said frankly. ‘I was merely curious.”

Hikaru snorted. “What did you read, Eyeshield 21? Detective Conan?”

“Card Captor Sakura,” Yeongha replied without a hint of shame. “And a little of X/1999.”

Hikaru stared at him, aghast, the straw to his frozen drink hanging comically onto his bottom lip. “You…read shoujo?”

“Of course,” Yeongha said, raising his eyebrows. “The characters are much prettier, therefore, much more pleasant to look at.”

“But…shoujo is so...sparkly.”

“How would you know?”

Hikaru sputtered. “I picked one up by accident when I was buying Jump. Like a long time ago.”

“Of course, I believe you,” Yeongha said in a tone which suggested the complete opposite.”I’m surprised you are not more aware of them, if you were a girl, you’d be the main character of the series. Go Mistress Hikaru.”

Hikaru face-palmed. “Why can’t I be the main character of a shounen series?”

“Don’t be silly,” Yeongha laughed dismissively, “If we were a shounen series, I would be the main character.”

“What—“ Hikaru protested. “How does that even work, if we’re going on ‘pretty’, then you would be—“ He stopped himself just in time, vaguely horrified with himself.

“You were saying?” Yeongha asked, eyes glinting.

“You. Would. Totally be the good-looking foreigner who doesn’t get the girl,” Hikaru said with a straight face. The elevator door _tinged_ and slid open.

“What if the person I want isn’t a girl?”

“Huh? What—”

The doors had scarcely closed before Yeongha’s hand was on Hikaru’s chest, pushing him against the corner of the empty elevator and pressing their lips together.

Hikaru let out an undignified squeak, but Yeongha pushed relentlessly forward, driving their bodies together. He had almost forgotten about this—Hikaru thought the natural distance between them since returning to Japan would take care of any lingering feelings, but _apparently not_. Yeongha continued with his ministrations, the clear longing and enthusiasm evident in how thoroughly he kissed. He would have gone on, blissfully unaware, but Hikaru, sensing the elevator seconds away from hitting the ground floor, was not so eager to participate. They broke apart just as the doors slid open, panting.

“W-what was that all about?” Hikaru blurted out, ignoring the attention he was attracting from people passing by for the volume of his voice.

“I kissed you,” Yeongha said flatly with only the smallest amount of frustration leaking into his voice. “Geez, I wonder.”

Hikaru looked around quickly in alarm, but luckily, no one appeared to understand Yeongha’s unique combination (or butchery, depending on how nice you wanted to be) of the Japanese-Korean language. “Wait,” he said, trying to keep up as Yeongha stalked away. “Hey, what’s the matter with you?”

Yeongha turned the corner into an alley that was thankfully empty. “Did you think we would just come back to Japan and pretend that the last three months never happened?”

“Yes! No!” The moment he started to think about it, the memories came crashing back like waves in the ocean. Sleeping in the same bed, countless meals in each others company, infinite games of Go. “I…I don’t know.” Hikaru ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve…I’ve never done this before.”

“Done ‘this’?”

“You know—“ Hikaru stammered, feeling his face turn red. “Like...do all those things with someone. I’ve just…it’s been all about Go, I haven’t really thought about anything else.”

Yeongha stared at him at length before shaking his head. “I think I actually believe you,” he said, almost to himself. “No wonder you’re such a spastic ignoramus sometimes.”

“Um,” Hikaru said before the insult sank in. “HEY.”

“I won’t give up,” Yeongha said, and it sounded like a declaration of war. “I will make you see in me what I see in you.”

“You’re really not making any sense there.”

“See you tomorrow, Shindou-kun.” Yeongha said as if Hikaru had not spoken, in flawless Japanese.

[ tbc ]


	8. Chapter 8

”There is no comparison,” Hikaru insisted. “Ninjas are way better. They can decapitate a pirate before he ever has a chance to draw his gun.”

“Oh?” Yeongha smirked. “I seem to recall you skipping Naruto to read One Piece in the last three JUMP magazines you bought.”

Hikaru opened his mouth to argue before shutting it without saying a word. “Fine,” he muttered. “You win this round.”

//

>

“So this is the famed prodigy that Touya-sensei flew to Korea especially to see.” Ogata flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette. “ _Yoroshiku_.”

“Ogata-sensei!” Hikaru’s head dipped respectfully. Yeongha’s remained stubbornly upright.

Ogata cocked his head in acknowledgement. “Enjoyed your stay in Korea?”

“Yes, I did,” Hikaru said honestly. “I learned a lot.”

“Hn.” The cigarette died a swift and messy death on the brick walls of the institution. “It certainly looks that way. You’re looking to qualify for both Kisei and Honinbo titles, aren’t you?”

“Yes sir.” Hikaru nodded.

“Glad I took a chance on you back then,” Ogata chuckled. “Good luck, Shindou-kun.”

//

>

“Who was he?” Yeongha asked the moment they were out of earshot. “What was he talking about, taking a chance on you?”

“That’s Ogata, Touya Meijin’s…ah, well I guess he’s not Meijin anymore. He was Touya-sensei’s student.” Hikaru explained. “He sponsored me when I was trying to become an insei, a long time ago.”

“Touya-sshin’s student, huh,” Yeongha mused, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t let him use that against you.”

Hikaru snorted. “You think I would?”

“He would,” Yeongha said unyieldingly. “He is one of those types of players.”

“Relax,” Hikaru said reassuringly. “I won’t fall for it.”

Because this was the final round of matches before the League was decided, his game was in a private room with a table for press and any other person who wanted to watch. His opponent was already sitting at the board when he walked in the room, a serious, marked expression on his face.

“I won’t lose to you today, Shindou,” Ochi said resolutely. After failing to qualify for the Hokuto Cup, Ochi had thrown himself into his studies, improving his hands, working harder and harder to reach the level he had seen in his contemporaries.

Hikaru took his seat, fan gripped tightly in his hand. “I can’t lose to you either,” he replied. The victor would be the one to advance to the League; and the title in question was the one most important to him.

They began.

//

>

Ochi played well. Shindou played well too, but Ochi matched him hand for hand. He had heard from Waya that Shindou now favored attacking over defensive play, but he would attack too, go all out, and force Shindou to defend. The game advanced quickly past the opening hands, Ochi continuing to feel in control of the match.

Two insei came in around ten minutes to watch the match. Ochi ignored them, trading stone for stone going deep into midgame, fighting fiercely for every hand. And then Shindou placed a stone on 11-7. It made him take pause. _’No…no way…’_ Ochi stared at the board in incredulity, wanting to believe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. To his horror, it was even worse.

Shindou had just rendered his main formation useless. In one move, he had lost so much of his territory that continuing on would be like playing a seasoned Pro with reverse-komi. It was almost a flashback to the last match they played during the Pro Exams, where Shindou completely turned the game around on a weak hand. But this was even worse; Shindou had dominated the game, turning good hands into great hands.

He had been completely outplayed. Shindou played on a deeper level, steady and relentless. Ochi had been determined to count the difference between them, down to the last moku, but now…

“I surrender,” he bit out, furious and humiliated. All this time, he thought he had been improving in leaps and bounds, and Shindou flew over his head once again.

//

>

“Thank you for the game,” Hikaru said, bowing his head as Ochi took off, no doubt to the nearest men’s stalls. He finished clearing off the goban and stood up, stretching. He had won. He had advanced into the Honinbo League. It wouldn’t be for another few months, but he was one step closer to winning back Sai’s title.

Two insei were sitting at the side table, gawking at him. “Excellent play, Shindo-sensei,” the boy blurted out. “I’ve never seen a hand like that.”

Well that was a first. “Please,” Hikaru laughed sheepishly. “I’m not good enough to be called sensei just yet.”

“Yes sir,” the girl exclaimed. “Shindou-san.”

Hikaru decided against correcting her. “Hey wait, I recognize you,” he said. “I played you in the last Young Lion’s Tournment.” The girl actually blushed. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Rui,” said the boy excitedly. “This is Oka. We’re taking the Pro Exam right now.”

It was only a year ago that he was in their shoes, and they were even younger than he had been. Hikaru grinned at the two of them. “Good luck.”

“Yes sir!”

//

>

Yeongha didn’t have a match that day, instead electing to watch the Gosei elimination between Ichiryuu and Serizawa in the viewing room.

“I’m impressed,” he said as his greeting. “I’ve seen both of their kifu before, both of them rarely play as well as they are right now.”

Hikaru shrugged. “The Room of Profound Darkness has that effect on people.”

“You’ve played for a title before?”

“No, I played Touya-sensei back in the Beginner Dan series.”

“Oh? How did it go?”

“Uh…” It was Sai who had played. “I lost.”

“Of course you did. I meant did you feel any differently?”

“I don’t remember,” Hikaru said honestly.

“You are useless,” Yeongha said affectionately. “Play a game with me?”

“Sure,” Hikaru moved to take the empty chair across the goban.

“No,” Yeongha said, standing up abruptly. “Not here.”

//

>

“The public area?” Hikaru glanced at him in confusion. “Why here?”

“I like the atmosphere.” Yeongha said.

Hikaru raised his eyebrows in disbelief, but sat down anyway. Yeongha drew black and took ten minutes on the first hand. _You want to be serious?_ Hikaru shrugged, but went with it.

Maybe it was frustration from the matches he had been playing lately against the lower-dans, but he had developed a real appreciation for Yeongha’s Go: clean and sharp tactics with only the smallest of margin for errors. They played without timers, each reading so deeply that a counter would have proved distracting.

A shadow fell over them around midgame and stayed until they had played the last hand.

“A half moku again?” Hikaru wailed once all the territories were counted up. “Why is it always that _half a moku_?”

“You lost when you defended right here,” Yeongha said, pointing to the bottom-left corner. “If you had stuck to your initial strategy and attacked right here, you might have done better.”

“Might have?”

“I might have had a counter,” Yeongha said. “But now I’ve been denied that opportunity, thanks to you.”

“You cannot seriously be that self-centered,” Hikaru stood up indignantly, preparing to rage—

“It was a good game.”

“Huh—what?” Hikaru asked, caught off guard.

“It was a good game,” Yeongha repeated. He was smiling—not a smirking half-smile or a sarcastic wide-smile. It was a real smile involving both corners of the mouth and the crinkling around the eyes.

“Uh…” Hikaru said haltingly, not exactly sure why his pulse was suddenly speeding up. “I…thank you, I guess?”

Yeongha leaned closer. “Loser takes me out for dinner.”

Hikaru swallowed. “I was planning to go play at a salon later,” he said, voice quivering only slightly.

“Pick me up later then,” Yeongha said. He laid his hand on Hikaru’s fingers briefly and then he left Hikaru standing there, blinking, wondering what the hell just happened.

//

>

“Samsung Cup?” Amano nearly bit through the eraser of his pencil. “The press release came out already?”

Kosemura nodded emphatically. Amano scanned the list quickly. Kurata had been invited again. Touya Kouyo was also on the list, which would have been more surprising if he hadn’t already been popping up on various other tournament lists in the last few months. Other than that, the only other Japanese player on the list was near the bottom.

“Shindou Hikaru?!” Amano exclaimed in surprise. “Shindou-kun was invited to play in the Samsung Cup?! And not Touya Akira? But why? His only international tournament was the Hokuto Cup and he lost both his matches there.”

“That’s what I thought!” Kosemura chimed in. “They said the list isn’t finalized just yet, and they’d send out more invitations whenever someone declined to attend, but…”

“How fascinating,” Amano said, leaning back in his chair.

“Maybe they didn’t ask Touya because they didn’t want him to win,” Kosemura chirped brightly.

“No…” Amano scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s something else…”

//

>

Touya Akira was in a poor mood.

Shindou had just stormed out after a verbal debate that had been more heated than the game they were arguing over.

“What’s your problem?” Shindou had shouted. “My Go changed and now it isn’t good enough for you anymore?”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all!” He had shouted back. “I’m saying you’re so far influenced by someone else that you’ve lost your own Go entirely!”

Shindou had made a noise in the back of his throat before standing up so fast he nearly threw his chair out from under him. “I’m not fighting with you on this,” he had practically yelled out.

“Have it your way!” He had yelled.

“Fine!” Shindou had yelled back before the door slid shut.

It was a testament to how intense their argument was that Kitamura-san chose not to interfere at all, even now, as Touya stared at the goban, fuming.

“I just saw Shindou-kun run out of here like a cat whose tail caught on fire,” Ogata said, walking into the salon. “Something happen?”

“Nothing happened,” Touya said through clenched teeth. Ogata took one look at the board whistled.

“Not one of your better games,” he said. He pointed to the cluster in the center. “What happened here?”

“I didn’t see it,” he said hoarsely. “If we had finished …”

“Aren’t you happy Shindou-kun is improving?”

“Of course I am,” Touya all but snapped, struggling to find words. “It’s just…this hand isn’t him at all. When I brought it up, he got mad and we got into a fight.”

Ogata stared at the board. He didn’t know Shindou’s Go as well as Akira did, but he trusted Akira to be smart enough to judge. If Shindou’s Go had changed by so much and yet managed to play evenly with Akira, he could only have enhanced his game. Akira, who had never had a peer competitor he took so much interested in, could not have been happy seeing Shindou Hikaru’s Go advance in such a direction.

“Akira, I’m going to do you a favor,” Ogata said, clearing off the board and beginning to map out the kifu of a game. Touya watched the patterns of black and white play out, his expression growing wearier by the second. “White is Shindou-kun,” Ogata said continuing to place stone. “Black is Ko Yeongha.”

Touya started. “Impossible,” he immediately protested. “I’ve seen two of their games before, they didn’t play anything like this.”

“They played this game earlier today,” Ogata said. “I saw it.”

What their game was now lacking had appeared in the game Ogata was setting in stone before him. The rhythm, the fluidity, the knowledge of each other’s minds which forced each other to think further into the game because you knew the other person knew how to counter where you were going to play.

“Be careful,” Ogata chuckled. “Your rival is being stolen away. How will you respond, Akira-kun?”

[ tbc ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \+ After reading the manga again, I realize that my timeline is a little off. So I did some quick restructuring to where I have the order of events down correctly (I hope), but the time in the year when they occur might be a little off. So for those of you who are sticklers for canon…sorry. ^^;;


	9. Chapter 9

“Oh my god,” Hikaru said blandly when he woke up on a futon that smelled too musty to be his own. “What is this place, _where am I_?”

Waya rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Shindou. You’re at my apartment.”

“Why am I here?” Hikaru blathered on, as if Waya had not spoken. “Why does my head hurt? What _happened_ last night?”

“We were all out last night celebrating Nase and Komiya passing the Pro Exam,” Isumi said cheerfully. “You got wasted.”

Hikaru tried to think back but that just made his headache worse. “Oh, I am never drinking again,” he moaned, rolling over and burying his face into the pillow.

“Get used to it, lightweight,” Waya grumbled, looking as though he had stayed up all night. “Once you start getting hired to play teaching games with the corporate people who want to look cultured, you’re going to be downing lots more than just what we drank last night.”

“Why did no one tell me about this?” Hikaru wailed. Isumi handed him a glass of orange juice, which he accepted gracefully.

“It’s part of the business,” Isumi said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll build up enough tolerance in no time.”

Hikaru remembered the time he had passed out in Korea and grimaced. “Unlikely,” he muttered.

“Don’t you have that one Amateur Festival to go to today?” Waya asked pointedly. Hikaru glanced over at the clock.

“Oh, _sh--_ ”

//

“What idiot shows up an hour late and does not call first?” Yeongha asked crossly, leaning against the doorframe.

“I said I was sorry,” Hikaru panted. “We were celebrating last night, and I crashed on my friend’s couch.”

Yeongha made a face. “You smell like alcohol and stale food.” He pointed a finger toward the bathroom at the far corner of his hotel room. “I am not being seen in public with you in this state. Go clean yourself. You can borrow something to wear afterward.”

Hikaru blanched. “But—“

“Now.” The forcefulness left no room for discussion.

Hikaru scowled. “As long as I won’t be disturbed,” he said suspiciously.

“Tempting as the idea may be,” Yeongha said without blinking. “I would never disrupt the sanctity of the bath.”

“See that you don’t,” Hikaru mumbled.

//

“I can’t believe this,” Hikaru muttered as he stared at the rack of clothing before him. “Do you have like, an ordinary t-shirt?”

“Of course not,” Yeongha said, affronted. “I would never wear something so pedestrian.”

“I’m not going into public wearing…” Hikaru gestured at the wide walk-in closet with the fitted jeans, the fitted button-ups, and the impossibly trendy fitted hoodies. Not to mention the ties and scarves and vests and _hats_ that Yeongha seemed to be so fond of. “…any of this.”

Yeongha snorted and then tossed two spontaneously picked out hangers at him. “Stop complaining,” he said. “It’d do you some good to get out of your beloved 5-themed clothing every now and then.”

Hikaru frowned at him, but given the suspiciously moist state of his current clothing, he had few other options.

Surprisingly, everything fit. Whether it was because Hikaru’s shoulders were more pronounced than he previously thought or Yeongha’s penchant for tight clothing, not only did it fit, he even admitted (albeit grudgingly) that he didn’t look half bad.

“Now we can leave,” Yeongha said eyeing him critically (if not inappropriately). “Are you certain you do not want a scarf with that?”

“I’d rather jump off a bridge,” Hikaru replied cheerfully.

//

The moment they arrive, the officials immediately come over to usher Hikaru over to a table where he was to play the winner of the tournament, a tanned, beefy man from Hiroshima who insisted on playing Shindou-pro. Hikaru allowed himself to be dragged off, offering only a shrug to his companion.

Yeongha took a seat just outside the edges of the gathering crowd. There were a relatively large number of people gathered to watch this sudden (according to Shindou’s opponent) rematch. Quite a large number of younger people, Yeongha thought to himself, far more of the demographic who could appreciate Shindou Hikaru.

He also spied the son of the former Meijin, who froze upon seeing him, and immediately circled around the crowd and made a beeline in his direction..

“Touya Akira,” he greeted coolly.

“I know what you’re doing,” he hissed back, unexpectedly impassioned. Yeongha raised his eyebrow .

“What do you mean?” he asked innocently. “I lent him clothing after a long night as any friend of his would.” Touya’s face flushed red with frustration. He had never done this before, Yeongha realized with some delight. He had never fought in the battlefield of love, and was floundering like a beginner who needed his thumb to place stones.

“You have greatly influenced Shindou’s Go lately,” Akira said quietly, in careful Korean. “But you can’t stay by his side forever, not the way I can. He will improve from what you have taught him, but his Go is meant for me.”

Yeongha knew people like Touya Akira, whose feelings were so tied to the craft that they completely failed to differentiate the feeling between that person and that person’s ability. Luckily for him, Ko Yeongha did not play with handicaps.

“I like Shindou Hikaru,” Yeongha replied matter-of-factly. Touya blinked, jaw dropping when he realized Yeongha meant it exactly in _that_ way. “His Go is also very exciting to me, but if you think his Go is the only thing I’m fighting for, you will never defeat me.”

The match concluded. Yeongha headed off to greet a victorious Shindou, and Touya Akira stood, rooted to the same spot, for a long time, feeling as though once again, he had encountered a foe who stood from somewhere high above.

//

The Ouza finals concluded at last, with Kurata 7-dan taking the empty seat left by the retirement of Touya Kouyo. The media room was filled with younger professionals who had stayed after their matches to watch the title game.

“What an inelegant game,” Touya murmured, almost disappointed.

“That was…not the best we’ve seen them play,” Isumi said carefully.

“They were too caught up in the battle in the center board,” Saeki said, looking at the board. “When Zama-sensei lost the center, he couldn’t recover.” All in all, it was a very ferocious fight, but the lack of a deeper game was a bit of a let-down, especially in such a prestigious event.

“Well that’s that,” Waya sighed, pushing his chair back. “Time to go to my teaching game, later.”

“I should go too,” Isumi said, bowing politely at Sakurano-sensei. “I promised a game of NetGo to a friend in China, wouldn’t want to miss it.”

Sakurano covered her smile with her fingers. “Le Ping is keeping up with his studies?”

Isumi smiled good-naturedly and bowed himself out. He had one shoe slipped on when he heard his name spoken softly from the mouth of Touya Akira.

“Could I ask you a question?” he said tentatively.

“Of course,” Isumi said kindly, sensing that whatever Touya was going ask required a great deal of courage.

“If…if someone appeared who was…challenging you for—uh, Waya-kun,” Touya said, stumbling over his words. “How would you…what would you do?”

“I think,” Isumi said slowly and carefully, knowing exactly who Touya was thinking of, “I would be happy if Waya found someone who could better his Go.”

“Wouldn’t you be…”

“Waya and I aren’t rivals.” Touya cocked his head inquiringly. “Our Go does not make us rivals,” Isumi explained. “But we are good friends, and friends don’t worry about being replaced.”

“I see.”

“I know what is worrying you,” Isumi said gently. “If Shindou can find a way to better his Go, isn’t that a good thing for you?”

“It’s not.” Isumi was taken aback by the bluntness of the statement. Touya’s face was tight with worry. “Thank you for your help, Isumi-san.”

//

“Hey, open up,” Hikaru pounded on the hotel room door. “Shinoda-sensei told me you haven’t showed up in a few days, what’s the matter with you?” No answer. “I know you’re in there, I asked the lady at the front desk.”

Silence. And then he heard a muffled, “the hell would she know”.

“Ha, it was a bluff!” Hikaru said triumphantly. “I knew you were in there. Open up.”

After a reasonable amount of time, the door swung open and the sight greeting him nearly made Hikaru step back in shock. “Wow you look terrible,” he blurted out. Yeongha glowered at him. With the puffy eyes, the dark circles, and the unbelievably ratty pajama bottoms, he didn’t look nearly half as intimidating as he was probably capable of.

“Are you sick?” Hikaru asked incredulously. “Don’t you know only idiots catch summer colds?”

“It’s September,” Yeongha said, sounding very congested. “September is Fall. What do you want?”

“Just making sure you were alive,” Hikaru shrugged. “I can do that, can’t I?”

Yeongha stared at him before running a hand through his very untidy hair. This was about the least put together Hikaru had ever seen him, even after rooming with him for three months.

“I’ll be fine, Shindou.” He sounded exhausted. “Go away.”

“But you’re not,” Hikaru insisted, following Yeongha into his room.

“Don’t do this, Shindou,” Yeongha said quietly, trying to look dangerous but achieving only a bleary-eyed stare. “Don’t give me this one centimeter; you know what I’ll do.”

Hikaru hesitated, but the more he thought about it, the less cautious he became and the more he saw someone who was unwell, in a foreign country, who probably wouldn’t let anyone take care of him anyway.

“C’mon,” he said gently. “Go lay down.I’ll stay for a bit.”

Yeongha gaped at him before flopping clumsily onto the bed. “Do what you want,” he said into the pillow.

Ten minutes later, room service arrived with three bowls of ramen and two large bottles of water. An hour after that, the bowls of ramen were empty and Yeongha was halfway through the second bottle. “Happy?” Yeongha grouched, tossing the empty water bottle at Hikaru’s head. “I think I liked you better when you were all angry at me.”

Hikaru frowned. “Really?”

Yeongha grunted. “No.”

//

They played two game of Go later that night.

And afterward, Yeongha somehow managed to weasel Hikaru into giving him a backrub, a task that even Hikaru would eventually admit was far more easily achieved than he wanted to admit.

//

Hikaru woke up that night with an arm slung around his waist, his back against Yeongha’s front.

I’ll just deny it in the morning, he thought, before dozing off again.

[ tbc ]


End file.
